


From the Ashes

by PersephonesGrace



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Elorcan, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Nightmares, they both have ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24427855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephonesGrace/pseuds/PersephonesGrace
Summary: A month following the events in Kingdom of Ash, Elide struggles to adjust to a normal life and is plagued by vicious nightmares from her past.  Lorcan shows her she is not alone in feeling the emotional aftermath of war and trauma.
Relationships: Elide Lochan/Lorcan Salvaterre
Comments: 10
Kudos: 78





	From the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> I just really love Elorcan. I hope you enjoy! :)

She couldn’t be here.

The war was over. Erawan had been defeated just a month ago. The Valg were gone. And yet.

And yet.

She was not in Perranth with her future husband.

Elide was crouched in a freezing, dark cell, wearing nothing but a thin shift that offered no shred of warmth. She couldn’t stop shaking—due to fear, cold, dread, she didn’t know—and she closed her eyes, as if she could blink away her situation.

She could not be here. Manon had gotten her out. Morath had fallen. Vernon was dead.

But the man who ripped open the cell door, a violent and repulsive gleam in his eye, was undeniably her uncle.

Elide backed up against the cell wall, her bare feet scraping against the grimy floor. Vernon flashed her a wicked smile and nodded in her direction. Ilken flooded into her cell with arms poised to grab her. 

She desperately looked around, hands skimming the ground around her as if she would be able to find something to wield as a weapon, but not to defend herself. She knew that any attacks on the Ilken would be futile, so rather than waste precious breath on an escape she knew would never happen, she would kill herself before they could take her.

But there was nothing but dried vomit and dirt around her, and as the Ilken lunged for her, the cell melted away into a suffocating darkness. She slipped into the void with a shriek only to wind up chained to a table. 

Elide fought against her restraints while choking back her sobs. “No,” she pleaded, “ _ no! _ ”

“You’re too smart for your own good, Elide,” Vernon said from a doorway. The endless black void shifted into a room again—a small, stone room where she was laid spread eagle on an obsidian altar. Vernon approached her with his hands in his pockets. “But still not smart enough.”

“Please let me go,” she begged. “Please,  _ please _ , don’t do it.”

Vernon bent over to whisper in her ear, “You’ve always been so ungrateful. You should be  _ honored _ .”

“You can’t do this. I am a  _ perso—“ _

Vernon grabbed her face at the chin, yanking her head to the side to look deep in her eyes. “You are  _ nothing _ ,” he spat, “so take comfort in the fact that your sacrifice will be missed by  _ no one. _ ”

It wasn’t true. She was no longer supposed to be invisible. She was Lady of Perranth again, damn it, not a Morath test subject. Not a prized heifer to be bred with the Valg and—

“You’ll make it worse for yourself if you keep fighting it,” Vernon cut through her thoughts. She couldn’t see him anymore.

The iron door slammed open, and her eyes widened as Lorcan stepped through it. She saw none of the warmth or love that she had grown accustomed to flickering in his eyes. There was nothing but contempt—frigid, hateful, contempt. Elide opened her mouth to plead to him, tears streaming down her face, but all she managed was a small broken cry.

“Kneel, Lorcan,” a new voice purred. 

Elide felt her spine lock up in horror. This was a voice she would remember until the day the Afterworld claimed her, for she would never forget the terror that sliced through her whenever she heard the low sultry voice of Maeve.

To her horror, Lorcan dropped to his knees in a trance without breaking eye contact with Elide.

Elide managed to gasp, “Lorcan.”

No response.

“ _ Lorcan, _ please!”

“I wouldn’t waste your breath. Remember, I own him,” Maeve continued. She finally walked into Elide’s line of sight, glaring at her down her nose with a conniving smirk plastered on her wickedly beautiful face. Maeve dragged a manicured finger down the side of Elide’s head, and Elide could only whimper as she desperately tried to wiggle out of her touch. The chain between her feet that had become like another limb to her in her childhood reappeared on her ankles, digging into the tender flesh there and aggravating the ever present pain.

Elide could do nothing but watch as Maeve passed her to approach Lorcan, whose gaze had fallen to the ground beneath him.

Maeve laughed to herself and laid her palm on Lorcan’s shoulder. “Good dog, bringing me just what I wanted.”

In the distance, Elide heard the crack of a whip and a shriek of agony.

_ Aelin _ .

Lorcan nodded. “Yes.” That deep, gruff voice that Elide had come to love sounded empty. Hollow. Broken.

Another crack, another shriek. Elide squeezed her eyes shut as if she could will the world around her away.  _ This is not real. You are not here _ .  _ You are not— _

“But, of course, it’s really you who I should thank, Elide.”

Maeve’s words made her snap her eyes open again. 

“Because Lorcan called me here… for  _ you _ , isn’t that right? To keep  _ you _ safe. Only  _ you _ .”

Crack. Scream.

“ _ No _ ,” Elide whispered.

“And in doing that… well, I suppose it’s almost a betrayal to  _ me _ , isn’t it?”

Elide looked back over to Lorcan kneeling on the ground, Maeve wrapping her fingers around his neck. “ _ No _ .  _ Please _ .”

“And do you, Elide, know what I do to those that betray me?”

Crack. Scream.

Elide could hardly see her lover through the fat tears that spilled from her eyes. “ _ No! _ ” She looked up just in time to catch Maeve’s stare.

A cruel smile bloomed on her lips. “ _ I punish them _ ,” she snarled. A knife materialized in Maeve’s hand, and Elide could do nothing but scream as she watched Maeve slice Lorcan’s throat open, ear-to-ear.

Lorcan fell forward, choking on his own blood, and Elide sobbed harder. She wrenched her limbs against her restraints, unable to feel them biting into her skin as the shattering of all that she loved filled her with a pain she had never known before. She wanted to scream out for him, but she couldn’t form words. She couldn’t even form a coherent thought through the agony ripping through her body. All she could do was cry.

Through his gasps, she could hear him moan her name.

“You’ll make a lovely host for the Valg,” Maeve said as the iron door opened yet again to allow another crew of Ilken in.

Lorcan groaned out her name again, this time louder. Crisper.

She tried to hold onto it as a lifeline, but the filthy hands of the Ilken started roaming her, ripping her shift off and readying her body for the implementation of the Valg. She couldn’t breath. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t do anything to stop them from implanting that  _ vile _ essence in her.

“ _ Elide. _ ” She heard Lorcan break through the numbing yet chaotic silence that had taken over her mind. But she couldn’t respond.

She couldn’t do anything.

Nothing.

She was nothing.

“ _ Elide _ !”

~*~*~

Elide gasped as her eyes flew open, and she shot up from where she was lying down only to launch herself off a bed in her panic. She hit the floor and cried out at the impact, hearing footsteps hurrying to her from the other side. It was dark; she still couldn’t see, so when two arms wrapped around her, she whimpered and shoved the body away from her. The presence retreated.

She tucked her arms against her chest and rose her knees up to bury her face into her legs. Elide couldn’t stop shaking, a broken sob yanking from her throat as she desperately tried to take in enough oxygen to just  _ breathe _ again.

“ _ Elide _ .” Lorcan’s voice again, gentler this time. Closer. Softer. “Elide,  _ breathe _ .”

She couldn’t. She was drowning in this void, agony dragging her into the depths with no respite, and she swore she could still hear the crack of that whip in the distance, Aelin screaming in response.

Those foreign hands grabbed onto her biceps. She flailed again to get them away from her, but they held on. She couldn’t shake off the Ilken or get the feel of their cursed touch off her skin, so she cried harder, because that’s all she could do.

“ _ Look at me. _ ” A gruff demand. “Elide, look at me,  _ now _ .”

Elide took more shuddering breaths, let out a few more sobs, before she raised her head and an image finally came into picture before her. She was backed up against the wall of a bedroom, a bed to her right just a few inches away, and in front of her, Lorcan crouched with his eyes narrowed on her. The scene was illuminated by moonlight filtering in through the windows and balcony door of their bedroom, as well as cooling coals dimming with every minute in the fireplace. The panic began to subside, replaced with a familiar terror that had filled her nights ever since she had returned to her manor in Perranth with Lorcan by her side—a familiar terror that she hated herself for having.

She gasped, “ _ Wha _ —“

“ _ Breathe _ .” As if to emphasize his point, Lorcan took a deep breath, nodding his head in encouragement that she should do the same. 

So she did.

One breath. Two breaths. Until the man crouching before her came into even crisper focus, and Elide could see his long hair tousled from sleep, the contours of muscle in his tan skin, the concern shining in his face. Concern for  _ her _ .

Oh, gods—

Elide stood abruptly, wincing as her weight fell on her bad ankle. The pain disappeared as Lorcan’s magic immediately braced her ankle, and he stood with her. She took in another deep breath.

Lorcan moved to touch her. “Elide—“

“I just—I just need a moment,” she said as she brushed past him. He called after her, but she ignored him as she strode across their bedroom and into the bathing chambers, locking the door behind her. The air of the bathroom offered a welcome bite of the frost outside to her heated, sweaty skin. Her nightgown offered little protection against the cold, and suddenly, it felt far too much like that scrap of fabric they forced her to wear in that suffocating cell. With a broken whimper, she ripped it off of her body and shoved it away from her with enough force that her disoriented self stumbled sideways. She was left in nothing but her underthings, but it was better than the feeling of the slip on her skin.

There was a tentative knock on the door. Elide started at the sound, stumbling back into the edge of the bathtub and knocking a few soaps and oils into the tub. 

“Elide,” Lorcan called quietly. “Please let me in.” He jiggled the doorknob. Lorcan could easily open the door himself, whether with magic or brute force, but she knew he wouldn’t—not unless she said he could.

Elide leaned against the bathtub while forcing air down her lungs. She slowly began shivering from the cold, but not even the chilly temperature in the bathing chambers could fight the heat rising to her cheeks as she realized the situation. Gods, how embarrassing. She thought she was so good about hiding the effects of her sleepless nights, even better at masking the times she woke up due to a night terror and yanked Lorcan from sleep with her. Elide ordinarily would just snuggle back into him, and he would never question her as he adjusted his hold on her. 

The secrecy was borne out of pride. She helped destroy the greatest threat to their world, and yet, despite watching Yrene eradicate him with  _ her _ plan, his reach still had a hold deep in her mind. And she was ashamed of it—ashamed of the fact that she was still so  _ helpless _ after everything—and it didn’t help that Lorcan hadn’t shown a shred of weakness this entire time. She refused to be anything less than the survivor, warrior, and Lady of Perranth that she knew she was. So she would hide her perpetual terror, having her breakdowns where she was certain no one could hear her sob or see her tremble as the fear stole the breath from her lungs again, and she would cover up the purple coloring under her eyes with as many cosmetics as she needed until she no longer had to.

She just had to last a little bit longer. The constant terror couldn’t stay for  _ that _ much longer, now, could it?

But the knocking on the door returned, and despite herself—despite her pride—all she wanted was to throw her arms around her lover and feel him safe in her arms. Safe, not under Maeve’s manipulations, not dead.

She could allow herself one night to be selfish. To show a little weakness.

Elide pushed off the tub, not caring that she was nearly naked and frantic, and unlocked the door. She yanked open the door and flung her arms around Lorcan, who didn’t so much as sway backwards as he naturally wrapped his arms around her as well. Breathing in his scent, she tightened her grip around him, the hard muscle beneath helping to ground her on this world, this reality, and most importantly, him.

Lorcan said nothing as she trembled in his arms. He just stood there with her, stroking the back of her head.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, Elide’s heart stopped hammering so violently in her chest, and her lungs didn’t ache with the effort it took to put air in them. She let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry for waking you,” she whispered. She looked up at him with her chin resting on his chest.

The Lorcan in her dreams had vacant eyes and looked upon her with no affection, but the Lorcan looking down at her now had nothing but concern and love floating in his features. Elide almost began crying again out of relief.

He raised a hand to cup her face, and she leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut again. Those calloused hands—hands that had felled kingdoms before she was even born and were capable of unspeakable violence—were never anything but tender with her.

“Are you alright?” Lorcan asked, his voice quiet and raspy from his interrupted sleep.

She answered with an unconvincing, “yes.”

“You realize you locked yourself in the bathroom and came out half naked in the middle of the night, yes?” His eyes roamed down her, and Elide blushed—not at his surveillance of her body, but of the strange behavior she was sure he was analyzing from her. “And you know I would ordinarily  _ never _ protest your absence of clothing, but…” He huffed a laugh at his comment as if trying to break the tension rising off of her skin like steam.

Instead of laughing, Elide swallowed and moved to take a step away from him, but he kept his arm firm around her and his other hand cradling her face. “No, no, no, don’t go away,” Lorcan murmured, leaning down to brush her forehead with a kiss. Then he placed his forehead against hers. “Talk to me. Please.”

Elide breathed a shaky laugh, unable to move away from the warmth he provided her. “It was just a bad dream. Let’s go back to bed. I’m sorry.”

Lorcan pulled back a bit to look her in the eye again. When he spoke, his tone remained soft yet sharp. “Like the bad dreams you’ve had every night since we arrived at Perranth?”

Elide froze.

He clicked his tongue. “Have you forgotten that I can smell your fear?”

She hadn’t, but she thought she had done a good enough job of masking her emotions. Her entire life before they won the war had depended on her ability to see and lie and adapt. Hell, she had Lorcan fooled for a while when they first met. So why, after a lifetime of lying and hiding, was she unable to hide her fear from him now? Why was she unable to hide her  _ weakness _ from him?

“I—“

Lorcan suddenly pulled away from her, grabbing one of her hands in his. “Come back to bed with me.” He didn’t wait for her response before he tugged her back towards their bed. She wanted to hesitate, wanted to stay rooted in her stance and give him another lame excuse before walking to an empty room on the other side of their manor and staring at the wall until the sun came up, but she let him drag her towards the comfort of their warm sheets. The lack of cloth on her was allowing a chill that even the warmth of him wasn’t enough to ward off.

They settled back under their covers, Lorcan making sure to keep Elide close to his warm body. It was only when Lorcan had finished gazing pensively into the darkness of their room that he said something:

“I’m always here if there’s anything you want to talk about. In case you forgot.”

Elide expected him to press her and waited for him to say more. But he didn’t; he left it at that and just stared into her eyes with nothing but love and understanding. How this was the same man that slaughtered armies before they could blink, she still wasn’t sure, but the bond that connected them through him tying his once immortal life with hers shone brilliantly in her heart. 

And it made her feel awful for even trying to hide anything from him.

Before she said anything, however, she had to ask: “you’ve known this whole time?”

He rolled his eyes. “I know you, Elide.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Lorcan shrugged. He was silent for a few beats, looking down rather than at her, and when he spoke again, his voice took on the old, gravely quality of the warrior he was. “I have seen war first hand many times. I know what it does to a person. And I know when I should push and when I should wait for someone to speak when it comes to debriefing those experiences.” He gave her a knowing look. “I was going to wait until you came to me, but tonight…” He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes before turning his gaze back to her with a fierce intensity. “You were just so afraid,” he whispered as he raised a hand again to brush his thumb across her cheekbone, “I could feel it, and it killed me. And I couldn’t wait anymore. I’m sorry.”

Elide almost laughed at the apology, at how ridiculous it sounded coming out of his mouth. “And here I was thinking I was being discrete.” 

“You’re never as secretive as you think you are. I just don’t know why you tried so hard to keep me from finding out.” When Elide didn’t respond, Lorcan added, “There’s no shame in it.”

“Isn’t there? I finally,  _ finally _ , have everything I have always dreamed of--” She reached out to place a hand on Lorcan’s arm as if to reassure herself that, yes,  _ this _ was real. “--and even though I have control now… I still feel trapped,” she said softly, “and I wonder if I’m just going to spend my entire life being afraid and weak. I find shame in that.”

“You have never been weak, Elide. You are the most brilliant creature I have ever encountered.”

“Clearly, not brilliant enough to believe that we’re safe,” she whispered.

Lorcan sighed through his nose. He shifted their positions, gently prodding Elide to move along with him, so that she was now resting her head on his chest. He had one arm wrapped around her body and another intertwining his fingers with hers. “You will never stop being afraid,” he began, “because you now have things that can be taken from you, things that you love that can be used against you.” Elide’s heart dropped to her stomach, but Lorcan kept speaking. “There was once a time where I would have called that a weakness. I have realized that perhaps it is a strength instead--to have something you love so much you would rather risk your own life than see it taken from you. But it doesn’t change the fact that the world becomes much more frightening with it.” 

He swallowed, and his next words brought tears to Elide’s eyes: “For the first time in my life, Elide, I know this fear, as well.”

Elide lifted her head to gaze into his eyes only to find agony rippling through his features. “You do?” she asked.

Lorcan nodded. His voice became quiet, a husk whisper edged with distress. “I sometimes dream that Maeve killed you on that beach, and I could do nothing but watch, still bound by her blood oath. Or that you were drowned by that tidal wave in Anielle when you braved hell to save my sorry ass. Or that Erawan slaughtered you, and Yrene, and Dorian before you could kill him.” A shudder passed through his body, and Elide couldn’t help but flinch at the images his words placed into her mind. Lorcan just held her tighter to him. “I have been in thousands of wars and battles, but I have never felt truer fear than when I think about you being taken from me.”

Elide’s body ached for him, to wrap her arms tightly around his body and bury her face into the crook of his neck as they held each other, but she didn’t dare move. Not when Lorcan was unveiling this rare moment of vulnerability to her. 

“So do not think you are alone,” Lorcan growled, “or that you are weak when you have shown more strength than the most experienced soldiers. And remember,” he put a finger under her chin and finished with a gruff, “I love you. Always.”

She couldn’t stop herself from leaning towards him and pressing her lips against his--soft, gentle, simply trying to convey an emotion that transcended words. “I love you, too,” she whispered when she pulled just a hair’s breadth away. Her bottom lip quivered as she confessed, “And I dream that I am still trapped in Morath, that they put… that… that  _ thing _ inside me--” She felt Lorcan tense up under her “--but the thing that terrifies me the most is when I dream that I have to watch you die. When I have to watch Maeve cut into you--” He winced, but she kept going. “--or that I could not get to Farasha in time before the dam broke in Anielle, and you’re swept away before I could tell you I loved you.” A tear slipped down her face, and Lorcan kissed it away. “I hate this feeling. How do we stop it?” she asked, a slight tremble in her voice.

“We can only try to heal, now. And whatever I can do for you, to help you, I will. Nothing is too large to ask, but please, do not try to carry this by yourself.” He kissed her again. “Let us be afraid together.”

Elide could only nod, in awe of the gentle man before her, so far from the revenge driven demi-fae she’d met all those months ago. “Together,” she whispered back.

She pressed her lips to his again--this time, more fervently, underlined with a desperation to feel something other than the angst that had plagued them both since the end of the war. Lorcan answered her unspoken request with the same understanding, quickly stripping away the few remaining articles of clothing between them until there was nothing but the skin on skin contact that drove them to blissful delirium.

Afterwards, as Elide drifted back to sleep with her head resting on Lorcan’s chest--still heated and slightly damp with sweat from their activities--she felt a quiet peace that had been missing for her entire life. And there, for the first time in her life, Elide slept through the rest of the night and did not dream of freedom she might never taste or monsters she could not leave in her past.

Instead, she dreamed of the soaring mountains and glimmering lake of Perranth, of the man sleeping beside her holding her hand and walking with her towards a sun on the horizon. Together.


End file.
